


My Little Cabbage

by compo67



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Lost Love, Older Jared, Older Jensen, One Shot, Post-Series, Regret, Reunions, Short & Sweet, Trans Female Character, after the show
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-12
Updated: 2015-01-12
Packaged: 2018-03-07 06:57:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3165608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/compo67/pseuds/compo67
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five years after the end of their time on a television show together, Jensen visits Austin without saying hello.</p><p>He turns around and decides that enough is enough.</p><p>He missed his chance once. He won't let it happen again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Little Cabbage

**Author's Note:**

> Petite fleur by Jill Barber for atmosphere music while you read.

Jensen sees her in the paper.

On his way to the airport for an audition in forty-two hours, he asks the driver to turn around.

The paper says Austin. 

"Austin," Jensen relays. "Please."

 

It's a picturesque street. 

Close enough to the best parts of Austin: the music, the art, the bookstores and record shops. Jensen is familiar with the city. They'd fly in on breaks and visit her family. 

That's probably why she moved back here after Vancouver. Her support system is here. Jensen's is back in Dallas, though some are more scattered than he would like. Los Angeles was never a good fit; Vancouver was worse. But she made it warm there, complete with phony baloney Canadian accent and pancakes on his birthday.

Twelve birthdays. 

Twelve years. 

They shared a trailer to start, because the execs wanted them to build chemistry. The production was also flat broke, so it was one trailer to share and they were both grateful for it. They were first on the call sheets but that didn't guarantee them shit. 

Many, including themselves, said here or there that a two season run would be a miracle. Jensen hunted for back up projects just in case, sort of like how his character hunted ghosts. 

The first season turned into the second, which turned into the third, which somehow became the twelfth. 

A bunch of things--life, one would say--happened in twelve years. 

Hookups, hangovers, shooting pool in a fancy pants ski lodge in Denver at two in the morning. Burning through a few pay checks to fly to Paris just to say they did. Being pulled into the Lourve, out from gray Parisian rain, and experiencing a kiss more profound than the paintings around them.

That was season ten.

The Lourve was a one time deal.

Marriages and divorces. The end of the show. The terrible feeling of... what now? 

Without his character, the one he had played for twelve years, Jensen felt like a turtle. Except he didn't feel like the actual turtle. He felt like the shell, without the turtle. 

Without her. 

Five years have passed since the party the studio held for the entire show's last episode. 

Jensen waits outside a brick shop on a side street in downtown Austin. He told the limo driver to come back in an hour. A cigarette hangs from his lips, unlit because, well, he's trying to quit. 

That's more recent news.

Divorce does funny things to a person. Jensen shelled out a lot of money to different therapists all across the country just to figure that out.

Sometimes, people fuck you up.

They might not mean to, but they do. 

Do what you can, Jensen tells himself, tucking the cigarette behind his ear, and the go from there.

He made that mantra up by himself. He didn't need a masters in psychology for that. 

At four fifteen, the shop door opens. Wind chimes above the door ring out. Children and their parents leave, hand in hand, everyone is all smiles. Jensen feels the tug of a smile. 

Sometimes, people fuck you up in a good way.

Jensen steps forward. He opens the door and walks into a dance studio. The space is for ballet and classical dance, but it's also used for acting classes, ages four to seven. That's what the sign said out front, anyway.

She walks out of a back room, thinking he's a parent that forgot something.

Well, Jensen isn't a parent.

But he did forget something. 

Hazel eyes go wide with recognition.

"Hey," Jensen breathes out, "Jay, I was wondering... are you... free tonight?"

She stands there, frozen, a hand to her chest. 

"I was hoping to ask you to dinner. Like. On a date."

That's what he forgot.

After the Louvre.

He forgot to ask her out on a date.

 

Reservations are not needed for their table at Austin's finest French restaurant. 

Jensen is, however, a little annoyed that the menu isn't in English. There's not an lick of anything he can read. Fuck.

This is where he would've liked to have started. Seven years ago. 

But he can tell that maybe, that's not the case for her.

She speaks perfect French to the waiter and orders for Jensen. 

"What'd you order?"

"Snails."

"Euw."

"Yeah, they still have their eyes attached."

"That's okay. We could make it into a Lady and the Tramp moment. You eat one eye, I eat the other... we meet in the middle..."

She laughs, but it's a nervous laugh. The same kind of laugh she gave when she announced her own news in season eleven. 

They are both nervous.

"Are you seeing anyone?" Jensen asks, his voice too thick to his ears. 

"No. I don't think I'd be on a date with you if I were."

"You could've agreed just to... catch up. This doesn't have to be..."

"Oh, I see." Her eyes are still sharp and five steps ahead of him. Her tone has a snap to it, but it's friendly "So what you're saying is that even if I were with someone else, I'd still find you so irresistible that I'd just have to have dinner with you? Right?" Sarcasm is friendly turf for them.

Jensen shakes his head and laughs.

"I can't argue with that," he admits with a shrug. "Look at this face."

"You've always been lucky," she murmurs, her smile pale to the shine in her eyes, "to be as cute as you are, Jensen."

This place isn't them. They used to eat their meals out of styrofoam containers from a food truck on drippy, drizzly sets at all hours. Every break in filming, they'd come back to Texas and indulge in barbecue from restaurants that had no names or napkins. 

But here they are. 

And across from him, is the most beautiful woman he will ever meet. Ever. 

In a dark blue dress, with pearl earrings, her long hair swept to the side, she is the only words Jensen ever learned in French: ma petite chouchou.

"That's little cabbage, Jensen."

"I know."

This time, her smile matches the spark in her eyes.

"Ma, not mon."

"I know that, too," he murmurs. His hands itch to tinker with a cigarette. 

Ma is the female possessive.

Mon is the male possessive.

To herself, it's been ma since season six. To the rest of the world, Jensen included, it's been ma since season eleven. 

How does someone spend most of their waking hours with another person and miss something like that? 

Divorce has taught Jensen that all the time in the world spent together could still make two people strangers. 

She, however, is no stranger to him. Not even after all this time. Not even after all this missed barbecue.

Long, elegant fingers clasp over his right hand. 

"You would technically use mon in that instance, it wouldn't make a difference grammatically."

"Jay."

"Hmm?" 

He gives her hand a squeeze.

"I was trying to be cute."

She looks down, shaking her head, dimples flashing. 

Jensen sees her.

And she sees him right back.

"Jensen, vous êtes merveilleux."

"I have no idea what that means."

"I ordered you snails."

"Oh. That's okay. I'll pick from your plate."

This isn't the Louvre. And later on, when they kiss outside her door, it still isn't the Lourve. 

Thank goodness.

Now, she smirks and pats his hand.

"I also ordered snails."

**Author's Note:**

> Forgive my grasp of french! If this is wrong, let's just call it artistic license. XD 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed. The idea popped up and I had to write it.
> 
> Also, she doesn't actually order snails. XD


End file.
